What Could Have Been
by RickDangerous
Summary: My own take on how I feel Life is Strange's episode 5 could have ended. Needless to say, spoilers for episode 5's ending. Though, at the risk of being an incredibly bitter person, dontnod have kind of spoilt it themselves - at least for me. This ending is a little happier.


Author Notes:

This is my own alternative ending to life is strange. I was deeply disappointed with the canon options, which I found uninspired and stooped in cliché. I don't consider myself the best writer by a long shot, and this piece was written rather quickly, since I really didn't want to dwell too much on what I consider a colossal disappointment. None the less, I hope some people find greater enjoyment in this alternate scenario than what I did in the canon offerings. Don't hesitate to leave a review or comment!

* * *

 **What Could Have Been**

Max Caulfield found herself in a position she never wanted to be in again. She was in the girls' bathroom in Blackwell Academy's main academic building. And the most important person in the world to her was about to be murdered.

"I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now-"

"-Leave them out of this bitch."

All she needed to do was stay there, in a dark corner. Curled up in the fetal position like some pathetic coward while her oldest friend, and the only one she truly loved, was gunned down by someone equally as pathetic.

"I can tell everybody that Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself-"

This was what Chloe had wanted. The way she had explained it, it seemed heroic; dying to protect the whole town. Now that Max was back in the moment, nothing about this seemed heroic: Chloe bleeding slowly to death in some dirty school bathroom, Max hiding in the corner while it happened, and Nathan screaming on the ground that he'd thrown his life away committing murder.

"You don't even know who the fuck I am, or who you're messing around with."

 _That's where you're wrong Nathan._

Max knew exactly who he was. As far as he was concerned, Max knew everything. She knew the future. Chloe would ramble for a little while longer, inadvertently pushing Nathan closer and closer to the edge. It'd come to a head with:

"You are gonna be in HELLA more trouble for this than drugs!"

"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?"

After that, she knew there'd only be one more line from Chloe, and then it'd all be over. Her hands shook, and her heart pounded in her chest like a jackhammer. Just one more line, and all those people's lives would be saved. And that line was:

"Get that gun away from her, PSYCHO!"

She also knew that line was supposed to be delivered in the first, not third person. It took Max a moment to realise the reason for the change: Chloe hadn't delivered the line. She had. In fact Chloe was standing there rather slack-jawed, unable to process what she was seeing. A guardian angel had appeared out of nowhere to save her, and she was 5'5", with freckles and a ridiculously generic sense of fashion. Max found herself lost for a moment. What the hell had she done?

"Are you sure you've got that pointed at the right person?"

God, what had she done? Chloe had begged her. Save the town. Let her, for once, be the hero. She'd just thrown that all away and condemned the whole fucking town to death, just to save one person. To save Chloe. Her Chloe. Or was there a third alternative? Something no one had thought of.

"And who should I have it aimed at, bitch? You!?"

Nathan grabbed Chloe by the Jacket, and spun her around so she was between Max and himself. His gun's aim swung wildly between Chloe's gut and Max's torso and back again, over and over. He was out of his depth and knew it, but still felt he had the advantage: he had the gun, Max had nothing, as far as he knew. In reality, she had a week's worth of additional knowledge and life experience. And what a difference a week can make.

"I'm not the one who's done anything wrong Nathan, but I think you know who has."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Who the fuck are- Oh wait, I know you. The skanky little hipster Vic keeps whining about. The one who thinks she's so professional even though she uses a Polaroid camera."

"The name's Max, Nathan. Three letters, so even a drugged up waste of skin should be able to remember it. And yes, I use a Polaroid camera. I'm sure you know they have a few advantages. For example, they mean I can avoid dark rooms."

Nathan's pupils were already wide, but on the mention of "dark rooms" they became like saucers. She knew. She knew!

"Bitch, I don't care what you think you know. You think the police can do anything to me? My family own them!"

"There's a difference between glossing over the testimony of drugged party girls, and covering up murder once the police have a corpse on their hands."

Nathan's eyes darted between each of them and then to his gun. It was true; if he fired, it'd draw the attention of everyone in the corridor. Even if he ran immediately, people would identify him. And if he stayed put, well, that head of fucking security would probably show up in less than a minute. Nathan knew he had a screw loose too, and he was always armed, and he was ex-army. Good luck winning a shootout against him if you can barely keep your gun up to cover some waif hipster. But if he didn't fire… well… the exit was straight behind him.

"Then… I can just walk out of here. Right Now. You think you're so smart, but you really have nothing on me. I don't shoot anyone, and my Dad pays off the pigs to bury some minor firearms offence. And that's if anyone even believes you. And assuming someone actually does buy your story, by the time any search warrants come through, there'll be nothing left to find in any dark places."

Max couldn't believe it. It had been so easy. He was going to just walk out of the room by himself; there'd be no need to rewind. As long as she didn't rewind, there'd be no storm. She'd found her ending where everyone lived.

Except.

Except he was right. They would get away with everything. The Prescotts would throw their money and lawyers around, strip the dark room bare of anything incriminating long before the police could serve a search warrant. Everything would be buried. Jefferson would probably relocate, and surface somewhere on the other side of the country, looking for more girls to drug and kidnap. Max had already gambled the town once by stepping out to confront Nathan directly. Now she was going to double down. She didn't care. She needed Chloe, but she also needed Justice. And for once in her life, she was absolutely confident in herself and her ability to get what she wanted.

"But there's already a body, Nathan. It's lying in an embarrassingly shallow grave in American Rust as we speak. What happened, I know it's an awfully big effort to move a full six feet of earth, but surely even you could manage at least two?"

That got his attention. Nathan's arms were shaking so much, Max was dubious he could even hit her if he pulled the trigger. Chloe's eyes began to well up: she somehow knew, inside, exactly who's grave they were talking about.

"Good luck proving I had anything to do with that, Max. It's been rotting there for so long, I doubt forensic tests could ever find the culprits."

Max hated herself for putting Chloe though this, breaking the news to her in this manner and while she was being held hostage. But this was the only way, for them, for the town and for justice. She hated most of all that she couldn't stop to comfort Chloe. But the only thing she really had in her favour was the shock she was building in Nathan's psyche. Her only chance was to hound him relentlessly and grind him down till only a husk remained.

"Oh I'm not talking about the police anymore Nathan. I'm talking about a more, shall we say, natural form of Justice. A storm is coming."

That seemed to do it. Nathan's legs failed him. He slumped against the back wall, still barely managing to cover Chloe and Max with his pistol.

"I'll be safe. We've made preparations."

"Yes, I know. Like I said, the dark room. It's a bunker in an abandoned barn outside of town. But do you really think that's enough to save you? A storm is coming. It'll begin with snow, then birds dropping dead everywhere, then whales. You've always found some brief salvation in their songs, haven't you Nathan. Imagine their screams as they die by the dozen on the beach."

"S-stop!"

Nathan had completely abandoned covering Chloe; his gun was now permanently aimed at Max.

"And then the storm hits, Nathan. Though it's not just a storm, it's the biggest fucking tornado the world has ever seen. It'll run right over town and keep going. No one survives, but it doesn't care. It doesn't care because it's after someone. Who do you think it's after, Nathan?"

Max started advancing on Nathan, her eyes never leaving his.

"Not me! I didn't-."

He waved his gun, frantically trying to dissuade her advance. She ignored him. She was a few feet of him now. If she wanted, she could probably just slap the gun out of his hands. But that wasn't what she wanted. No, Max had different plans; plans that she didn't want jeopardised by the gun accidentally discharging, even if it wasn't aimed at anything.

"No, not you. You're only number two on its list, the idiot accomplice. Who do you think it really wants? Who do you know who's that fucking horrid? Who do you know that's done so much evil, that nature itself is out to get him."

She bent down slowly, kneeling on one foot. Nathan's eyes followed, frantic to look away but somehow finding it impossible.

"Him!"

Max gently placed a single hand on the gun.

"Yes Nathan, Him. Mark Jefferson. So now I'm going to ask you one more time. Are you sure you've got that pointed at the right person?"

Nathan's hand went completely limp, and Max gently took the gun from him. She ejected the clip. The gun was still loaded: a single round was in the barrel; the round that had killed Chloe in so many of the timelines Max had wiped away. It would have to be enough: Max wasn't prepared to risk firing blindly in the general direction of the target and killing more innocents, or getting into a shootout with security or the police in the aftermath. She couldn't take care of things herself, her access to this point in time was restricted to the immediate surroundings of the bathroom, where she originally took the butterfly picture. Instead she needed to hand the gun to someone. Someone she thought could get the job done.

She turned to Chloe, and saw her eyes watery and face full of vengeance. Then to Chloe's absolute horror and disbelief, Max took the gun, still loaded with that single round, and gently placed it back into Nathan's shaking hands.

Nathan looked up, pleading, and it was now Max's turn to look incredulous. Nathan was actually trying to push the gun back into Max's custody.

"Please. Please don't. Here, take it! You could-"

Max shoved the gun roughly back into his chest, side-on. He took the hint this time and grabbed it, but stayed slumped against the wall, despondent.

"Please." He whispered. "You don't know what he's capable of. He's-"

"I know exactly what he's capable of, and what he isn't. He can't, for example, see the future, see into your head the way I can. And speaking of the future, here's another insight. Jefferson's had enough of your instability. He's going to come for you before the end of the week; you're dead unless someone gets him first. He won't be expecting anything today, though."

The eye contact between Nathan and Max was still absolute. Something about Max's expression told him that she was being utterly truthful here. Max did know the future. She did know things about him, about what he and Jefferson were up to. And he knew in his heart that Jefferson was going to come for him. Deep down, he'd actually known it for a while now. He'd been hearing the growing frustration in Jefferson's voice at his perceived failures, and deep down knew a "terrible accident" was planned for him in the near future.

"How?" He stammered. "How do you know these things? No one could know!"

Max's face contorted into a terrible smile.

"I told you my name was Max. It's a very easy name to remember isn't it. Just three letters. Know any other words that are three letters long? Maybe starting with G?"

Nathan's jaw lay open in shock. The rank absurdity of the claim was overwhleming, but what other explanation was there? Max could both peer into the future and peer into his mind. She knew things no one could know. There was more too: the same sense of dread Nathan felt each time he woke from a nightmare of the oncoming storm was somehow radiating from Max. The way she carried herself when his gun was on her, too, was incredible. Almost like she had a power beyond reckoning up her sleeve, but for some reason was holding back; unprepared to unleash it, even though it would have resolved the situation in a second. He sat transfixed until Max very gently placed an arm on either side of Nathan, and pulled upward. He gingerly took the hint and stood.

"Now, you've got one shot, Nathan. A single chance to redeem yourself, and for once in your pathetic life, be the hero. It's also a chance to save yourself, and probably the whole town. He's in the art classroom now. There's the door. Do as your conscience demands."

Max watched as Nathan stuffed the gun into his jacket, and stumbled forward, out the door and into white light. She had no further control of the situation, the boundary of camera focus preventing her from any further aid or encouragement. Literally everything came down to Nathan now. Max had forfeited her own chance to be a hero, and instead chosen to become a manipulative monster, turning Nathan into a weapon of vengeance. She'd taken away Chloe's chance to expose everything by a heroic sacrifice, in favour of keeping her alive. Max could still hear voices from beyond the boundary though. Perhaps she'd hear a sign of whether Nathan's mission turned out well, or badly. If he failed, Max could always give Chloe all the information she had. Pray she'd call in the FBI, and lead them to Rachel's grave and the dark room, instead of launching a one-woman vengeance quest again.

In the mean time, Max turned to Chloe. Contrary to her usual tough persona, her cheeks were mattered in tears.

"Max?" She whispered. "She's really gone isn't she. And I nearly died as well. But you finally came back, saved me."

Chloe's expression suddenly turned hostile, she grabbed Max roughly by the sides and shook her. "And then you just sweet talk that fucking lunatic, give him his gun back, and sent him on his way?"

"On his way to kill the man ultimately responsible for what happened to Rachel, and so many other people." Max replied flatly. "There's a good chance he'll fail or be shot by security in response. I wasn't prepared to risk you playing that role. I've taken far too many risks with people who matter already."

"Max, what the hell happened to you. You show up out of no where, stare down an armed, hella crazy psycho, mind break him with words alone, and send him out to kill his leader without a second thought. And this 'what other three lettered word begins with G crap?' Do you honestly believe you're-"

"Gay."

Chloe's face broke out with confusion.

"Three letters, starting with G."

Max stepped toward the now stunned Chloe price. Her hands cupped Chloe's wet cheeks gently, and she brought their lips together for a moment.

"I'm hella Gay." Max repeated, a weak smile spreading across her face for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Further discussion of curtailed by the sound of a single shot, and then the high pitched scream of a voice Max knew all too well.

"Oh my fucking God Nathan you fucking psycho! You murdered him! Walked straight behind him and shot him through the fucking head!"

Victoria must have still been in the classroom with Jefferson, continuing to fail miserably at hitting on him when Nathan walked in. Guess that answers the question of whether Nathan succeeded in his mission. As Max's time powers began collapsing the scene, and she felt herself being dragged back into the present, a single entirely horrible thought crossed her Mind. One that, for some reason, she couldn't help smiling at. Courtesy of Mr Jefferson, she was sure Victoria now had something a lot more difficult than paint to wash out of her "fucking cashmere."

* * *

 **Concluding Author Remarks:**

(Warning this contains *opinions* and incoherent rambling on the canon endings to Life is Strange)

I think, to be honest, most of us had an inkling we'd be in for the "sacrifice Chloe" type ending since the first episode, but probably decided to discount it. Mostly because it'd be, to quote Mr Jefferson, "too obvious" "and frankly… bullshit", already done and done better in other genres of media. We had faith that Don'tnod were intelligent, hardworking developers and would provide something a little bit smarter. Now personally, I have nothing against sad or bittersweet endings to stories per-say. But what was delivered was frankly intellectually insulting , using rigid control of the narrative (and subsequently illogical actions on the part of the characters) to traumatise the characters for cheap drama's sake. I also found the endings excessively short in duration, failing to provide an adequate epilogue that expounded on the fate of any of the characters I'd come to care about.

You might notice a lot of use of the word "Character" in the preceding paragraph. That is because that is what Life is Strange did fantastically. It produced wonderful characters, which is probably why so many stories were spawned here on fanfiction dot net and AO3. Sadly the actual canon story, and in particular its ending proved unworthy of these characters.

Ideally, I think I would have enjoyed a game ending based on another dialogue puzzle without the rewind safety net, in place of the "sacrifice Chloe" option. Something similar to the Kate roof sequence, which was one of the most tense and drama filled moments in any game I'd ever played. Instead of a "sacrifice Chloe" option, we'd have a "risk Chloe" option, where Max travels back in time and comes out into the open to confront Nathan. No rewind would be available (as that would restore the "sacrifice Arcadia Bay" timeline). Failure here would have grave consequences: either resulting in the "sacrifice Chloe" end playing out, or possibly an alternate scenario where Max is killed instead (this actually seems the safer sacrifice to guarantee no more time travel).

Other, better possibilities might include a scuffle for the gun where Nathan is shot, perhaps a "good end" where Nathan is convinced by dialogue to surrender or flee (with some negative consequence, such as him and/or Jefferson still being at large, having managed to dispose of any evidence that might convict them), and the "good-dark" end presented in this piece, where Max uses all her knowledge of the future to "break" Nathan, and send him on his way to ambush Mr Jefferson.

I chose to focus on writing up the "good-dark" end here, as it moved beyond the simplistic "the universe wants Chloe dead… for reasons." but was by no means "perfect". An idea recurring throughout the game seems to be that we shouldn't strive for perfect endings at all costs. Just do our best, enjoy what we can, and move on. In the piece I wrote, Nathan is essentially turned into a weapon and will probably need institutionalisation, if he isn't just shot by police or David Madsen. Max has become a stone-cold manipulator. Victoria has her idol's grey matter spread all over here expensive sweater (=kek). And Chloe has to still face the loss of Rachel. I don't think it's a perfect end by any means. But it's an end where what Max learned during the story actually matters, as opposed to pressing a simple reset button, and it's an end with some hope left in it.


End file.
